


By any other name

by ayumie



Series: The Grimm Road [2]
Category: Grimm
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, M/M, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 09:47:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1131174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayumie/pseuds/ayumie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/1037501">Truth has no answer</a> dealing with the events around the beginning of season 3. Nick isn't happy with the way Renard handled the barfight and demands answers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By any other name

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://hisoka44.livejournal.com/profile)[**hisoka44**](http://hisoka44.livejournal.com/) and [](http://lea724.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://lea724.livejournal.com/)**lea724** for being wonderful beta-readers.

Title: By any other name  
Fandom: Grimm  
Author: [](http://ayumie.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://ayumie.livejournal.com/)**ayumie**  
Rating: MA  
Pairing: Renard/Nick  
Summary: Sequel to [Truth has no answer](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1037501) dealing with the events around the beginning of season 3. Nick isn't happy with the way Renard handled the barfight and demands answers.  
Warnings: Spoilers for season 2 and 3.  
Notes: Thanks to [](http://hisoka44.livejournal.com/profile)[**hisoka44**](http://hisoka44.livejournal.com/) and [](http://lea724.livejournal.com/profile)[**lea724**](http://lea724.livejournal.com/) for being wonderful beta-readers.

 

Renard's steps were unsteady as he went to answer the door. He wasn't really surprised to find Nick, still looking worse for wear but at least alive and like himself. The only question was whether this was supposed to be a booty call or a confrontation. Either way-

“Now is not a good time.”

“Rosalee said that I probably shouldn't be alone right now. She and Monroe have this big date planned for tonight and since I already ruined most of their week, I thought...”

Mutely, Renard stepped aside. After several months of more or less regular visits, Nick simply tossed his jacket onto a chair and went straight for the fridge. If he noted the lack of light in the living room or the half empty bottle of whiskey, he gave no indication of it. Renard watched Nick take a swig of his beer, waiting for the inevitable.

“I'm still not happy about the way you handled things.”

“So I surmised. But you didn't turn yourself in.”

Nick shook his head.

“Knife or not, that man was no threat. I killed him. You once told me that was no small thing. And then I got thinking and it feels like everything is spiraling out of control. Do you have any idea how many Wesen I've killed?”

“I could hazard an educated guess.”

Something was troubling there, but Renard really didn't want to be having this conversation right now. Not with Vienna weighing heavily on his own conscience. He knew that he ought to say something, somehow find the words to give Nick back his faith in himself. He couldn't.

“Nick, please. Could we do this some other time? Frankly, I'm drunk and you're still in bad shape. You can stay here. Of course you can. But let's talk tomorrow.”

“You _are_ drunk.”

Nick's eyes grew intense and, suddenly uncomfortably aware of his rumpled shirt and rolled-up sleeves, Renard could all but sense being seized up by the detective. Just what he needed. When Nick abruptly moved into the living room, the realization that he had kept his laptop open came about ten minutes too late. Renard could only watch as Nick bent over the bright screen.

“'Tot' means dead, right? There was an explosion?”

“On his way from the airport. He was driving himself, so no one else was seriously injured.”

The Grimm straightened, face carefully blank. There was no telling which way he would jump. Then Nick exhaled slowly.

“I think you're right. We shouldn't talk tonight. And we're not nearly drunk enough.”

With a quick, decisive movement, Nick closed the laptop and reached for the bottle. He poured two glasses and pushed one at Renard.

“Here. Let's get smashed.”

Both men proceeded to do so with admirable determination. At some point in the middle of the night, Renard woke with a vague recollection of being undressed and put to bed. Nick was lying curved against his side, still in a way that instantly sobered him. Touching cool skin, Renard felt for a pulse. Not good at all. How he was ever going to explain any of this to a medic was beyond him.

When Nick opened his eyes, relief was instant and overwhelming. Renard's suggestions regarding doctors – possibly even a specialist from Europe – however, were summarily dismissed. Instead, Nick seemed to have suddenly developed several additional hands, which he used in a very distracting manner.

“Nick, stop it! This is important.”

“Sure it is. But not as important as what I'm about to tell you. Now, the next time we're at work, I want you to imagine the two of us in your office. You could bend me over your desk. Of course, the blinds would be shut, but we'd have to be very, very quiet. I don't know if I could manage. With that pounding into me?”

Renard groaned as a firm hand closed around his cock and all thoughts of poison and the past days instantly evaporated. Nick had the audacity to laugh as he was tumbled over and pinned to the mattress.

“Yeah, just like that...”

It took a kiss to finally shut Nick up and another just to be sure. Renard made a small, satisfied sound as the body beneath him relaxed. There was lube on the bedside table – there always was since this … thing between them had started. Skirting the fresh bruises and injection marks, Renard studied Nick's face as he trailed slick fingers down his stomach. All the familiar little reactions were there, the flutter of muscles when he dipped into the navel, the sharp intake of breath at a bite to the neck and, most telltale of all, the sharp arch of back at the first intrusion. There was always a heady rush of power at being able to do this – to a Grimm no less – but tonight that was almost drowned out by relief at their narrow escape and the savage joy of victory. 

Strong fingers dug into Renard's shoulders, urging him on. He crawled up Nick's body, gaze never leaving his face. Those blue eyes held a challenge – they always did – even now as their owner spread his legs wider. Nick groaned harshly at the first press of Renard's cock.

“You like watching me, don't you? Knowing that it's me?”

“Is that a problem? Should I be imagining someone else in my bed?”

Renard grinned as Nick turned his head and bit into his wrist, playful but with enough force to sting.

“That's not what I- oh!”

Renard had shifted forward, finding an angle he knew Nick liked. For a moment, both men stilled, struggling for control. It was a tight fit. Renard was a big man, but Nick could take it. That thought was exciting, too. Not to have to hold back, to check his strength – to be able to move with the animal-grace of the Zauberbiest, fast and hard and again and again and again.

Nick was making the most delicious little noises, eyes unfocusing as his head fell back. His cock was lying against his stomach, hard and flushed, almost angry looking.

“Sean!”

Almost a scream, demanding. Then Nick  _did_ scream, muscles clenching in a way that drove Renard crazy. It didn't take long after that. Once he had ridden out the last waves of pleasure, Renard collapsed and pressed close. He smelled sweat and sex and Nick.

“I thought I had lost you.”

This time they slept entangled, with Nick's head tucked beneath Renard's chin and his arm resting heavily across his waist. In the morning they got dressed in silence. There would be coffee at the precinct and several stores that sold baked goods on the way. Under the door, Nick turned back.

“Tonight? I've been really good about not asking questions, but for the last few days you owe me some explanations.”

Renard nodded.

*

That evening, Renard would have given much to have some excuse for working late, but no convenient murder occurred. Instead, he was forced to pick up takeout on his way home and set the table for two. Nick arrived shortly after, looking tense and wary.

“Monroe translated the article for me,” he said without preamble. Renard nodded.

“I made arrangements when I couldn't stop the plane with your body on board. At the time, I didn't have a lot of options.”

He hadn't tried to call off the hit, though, even after he had learned that the plane had crashed.

“What was your brother going to do to me?”

“He didn't tell me his plans.”

Nick just looked at him, implacable.

“He would have tried to break you. Failing that, he would have killed you.”

“For the key?”

“For the key. For the power of mastering a Grimm. For pleasure.”

“Because he thought I was yours?”

Renard didn't know how to answer. Whatever the truth of the matter, in the eyes of the Verrat Nick was certainly his and he had gone out of his way to assign him cases involving Wesen in order to further that impression. It was simply safer that way. Furthermore, there were almost certainly people watching them, people who would by now be aware of their private involvement.

“I never spoke to Eric about you other than in the most general terms. I don't know who might have.”

Nick took a deep breath, face set in the concentrated lines of someone who was trying to fit new pieces into a puzzle he had been working on for some time.

“What happens next?”

“For a time? Nothing. The family will need to regroup. There will be a new crown prince and at the moment there are several possible candidates. A lot depends on who comes out on top.”

“Will they come after us?”

“I don't know. I hoped the Läufer would be blamed for the bomb. The man I contacted got away clean, but … today at the office I got a call from my mother.”

“The Hexenbiest? She blamed you?”

“She thanked me. Didn't say much else except that she'd be in touch.”

For a moment, Renard hesitated. Then he continued.

“Perhaps she doesn't realize – what lay between me and my brother has always been poisonous, although a long time ago I had hoped... It would have come to this sooner or later no matter who or what was involved. I made a decision and the only thing I regret is that I don't even feel bad about it.”

It was a pretty lie, as far as it went, close to the truth. Except that if it had been just about Eric's invasion of his territory, or even about the key, an arrangement might have been possible. Nick's face softened.

“You did feel bad about it. Yesterday. Anyway, let's eat.”

Apparently the interrogation was over. There was pasta and salad and wine and Nick kept up a steady flow of conversation, mostly funny stories about some Eisbiber. The whole scene was strangely domestic. Over the past months Nick had dropped by on a regular basis, but shared meals had, at best, been incidental to those visits. After dinner, they stacked the dishes in the sink for Renard's housekeeper to wash the following day and Nick suggested a movie. Picking out a title required some ten minutes of bickering, but in the end they settled for  _Pulp Fiction_ .

Nick sprawled on the couch like a kid, feet resting comfortably in Renard's lap. As the screen flickered to life, they sat quietly, relaxed. After a while, Renard's hand stole beneath the leg of Nick's jeans to rest on his calve. The latter slowly turned his head.

“Can I ask you something?”

“More family secrets?”

“Not exactly. What do you like to do? When you're not Captain Renard or the Prince of the City. There's got to be something.”

On the screen, Samuel L. Jackson was scowling, but Renard supposed his own expression ran more along the lines of dumbfounded.

“This. I like this.”

Nick's lips twitched into a smile.

“As forthcoming as ever. I suppose I'll just have to find out for myself.”

“Yes, I suppose you will.”

THE END


End file.
